Oil and Water
by OpheliusRex
Summary: Natasha Romanoff was, first and foremost, a SHEILD agent... but she was also Black Widow. Can Tony cope when she flips his life completely upside down? Pepperony, rated M and you know why. R and R please!
1. Oil and Water

**Oil and Water **

**Rating: NC-17**

**Pairings: Pepper/Tony, one-sided (mostly) Natashalie/Tony**

**Warnings: Sexual themes and scenes, major character death. Not for those who don't like sex scenes or those who can't deal with the Nat/Tony pairing. For the record, I'm not a fan of the pairing either, but it IS part of the story and if you can't read it, don't bother flaming me.**

**Summary: Natasha Romanoff was, first and foremost, a SHEILD agent. She was trained to do what Nick Fury directed her to do. Secondly, she was Tony Stark's personal assistant. Behind her well-to-do exterior, though, the Black Widow is planning something- something big. Can Tony survive it when she flips his world completely upside down? T/P.**

So this is my first srsbsns fic. Calling it srsbsns probably defeats the purpose, huh? Anyway, I got the idea for this completely out of nowhere and REALLY really liked it- hope you guys do, too. I'm also hoping that my writing brings my ideas to justice because I often feel like they don't. As much as I feel like the Natasha/Tony pairing is just plain not realistic, if it were going to happen at all, I think it would have happened like this. Don't worry though- the story is very plainly T/P. I do love Nat though- and I'm sure her character in Avengers will be nothing like this, but I rather like Evil!Natasha, so, yeah. Reviews get virtual cookies!

She had begun to think of herself less as Natasha these past few months, and more as Natalie. She wanted to be whatever it took to stay close to Tony Stark, and for a while it seemed like it was going to work.

She knew he was attracted to her. That much was clear from the moment she met him. She could feel just as plainly as Happy and Virginia could see Tony's interested glances; he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was, or maybe he knew just how obvious he was and didn't care. The main problem was Potts. The sexual tension between her and Tony was thick enough to cut with a knife (which occasionally Natasha wanted to try), and as much as she sometimes felt that seducing Tony Stark was easy, he still looked at his 'Pepper' with a different expression than anyone else.

And that was what she wanted. She wanted him to look at her like that and she couldn't understand what Virginia Potts had that she doesn't. The woman has no curves, no nothing, and Natasha knows for a fact that she does, and that men like it. She just doesn't understand.

The main reason behind her plan of seduction is more of a business-related cause than a lust-related cause, though Tony is, of course, a handsome and charming man. He is also Iron Man, and she is also Black Widow- which he doesn't necessarily know, but he will if her plan goes right- which would make them the best super-couple the world had ever encountered.

Whether they'd be superheroes or supervillians was something she was willing to toy with for a bit longer. Originally she had thought that Tony's promiscuous ways and her seductive advances would be enough- but it soon became clear that she'd have to actively get rid of Potts in order to get him right where she wanted him.

And that was why she was crouched, hiding, in Tony's workshop, waiting for him to come home from the Expo.

Her nails scraped against the tile floor and she narrowed her eyes, reviewing her plan yet again in her mind, a smile creeping across her meticulously-glossed lips.

"So, how are you gonna resign?" It was a weird question of him to ask her and she realized that he probably hadn't understood that she had overreacted. She laughed, hands flat on the front of the suit on either side of the arc reactor. "I'm not," she told him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

Pepper Potts really did like kissing Tony Stark- each time she did, she liked it a little more. He pouted (it wasn't cute at all, she told herself. It was juvenile and… damn, those puppy-dog eyes got her every time) and said that he didn't understand, and when she laughed again he kissed her again- thank God, his lips were on hers and nothing else mattered.

One suited hand was pressed gently to the back of her neck, the other ghosted across her lower back, sending pleasant shivers up and down her spine. She reached her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, and they kissed until oxygen became completely necessary.

"You should probably get out of that suit," she murmured, fingers toying with the dark hair at the nape of his neck. He sighed , his breath huffing against her lips deliciously, and closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah, probably," he admitted slowly, "But I'd rather stay here on this roof with you."

"You can bring me with you," she pointed out. "You'll need someone to help you get cleaned up- God knows you'll never go to a hospital." He grinned and his eyes shot open- gave her that shit-eating grin that made her absolutely sure of what he was about to do before he did it- and then, quite suddenly, they were airborne.

Tony got them home fairly quickly- though he was flying more carefully, with Pepper wrapped around him, laughing whenever he corkscrewed or dipped even a little. He liked what she looked like in his arms, liked what the wind did to her hair and how much she seemed to have relaxed now that they were in the air. He could hardly wait to get out of the damn Suit and feel her body warm against his, to taste those incredibly soft lips without having to worry about whether he was crushing her with the added power of the suit.

He flew into the garage and down through the tunnel into his workshop, where he set Pepper down and was able to land fairly accurately onto the platform that would dismantle the mangled Suit. She helped him peel off the neoprene under-suit, so gentle that he could hardly feel her hands on him. He stood before her in his standard undershirt and boxers, watching her reactions as she looked him over, gauging how badly he was hurt by the concern she was trying to hide behind a neutral expression.

"I'm bruised, huh?" he asked softly in an attempt to lighten her expression. She finally met his gaze and he was shocked by the sadness that he found there. It worried him- damn near killed him, actually- to think that he was causing that look on her face, so he didn't move when she reached out to cup his cheek in her hand.

She was shaking.

"I'm fine," he told her. It wasn't strictly true. He was starting to feel the wear and tear of battle- the exhaustion, the crash of the adrenaline high of the fight. He was pretty sure he had a few broken ribs and his right arm felt pretty torn up, but he put on a brave face, his pain numbed by the kisses he and Pepper had shared, by her hand on his cheek and her sad blue eyes.

"You're stupid," she told him, trying to smile. "You've got to stop doing this, Tony… you're going to kill yourself."

"Technically it would be someone else that would kill me," he pointed out. It sounded less morbid in his head and he winced when her smile disappeared. "Kidding," he added quickly, reaching up to take her hand and drop their joined grasp between them.

"It's not funny," she told him, letting go of his hand, stepping back, shaking her head. He had a sudden flash of awareness when he was absolutely certain that there was somebody behind him, only a split second before Pepper's frightened blue eyes focused on a point behind him and something connected with the back of his skull. There was a sickening crunch and the world fell away.

She'd like to think she was surprised when it happened, but she didn't really have the time to be surprised. One minute Tony had been knocked unconscious by the butt of a pistol, the next thing she knew, blood was pumping from two perfect circles in her stomach and she was screaming.

All she could do was watch as the blood stained her pressed white blouse, as her shaking hands flew to the bullet wounds, and then she started to spasm in terrible pain. It was the kind of pain that didn't really register in your mind- but your body still reacted to it, and she was unable to fight it as darkness enveloped her.

Natasha called 911, knowing that her shaky, panicked voice was only half-faked, and dropped the pistol into Tony's open palm, curling a few of his fingers around it. She peeled the gloves from her hands and shoved them into her bra (nobody would ever think to look there, and if they did, it was a lawsuit anyway). She dropped a particularly heavy piece of metal a few inches from Tony's head and then kneeled next to Virginia's unconscious form, taking her head into her lap and preparing herself.

The ambulance was there within the next three minutes. By then, Natasha had effectively conjured a convincing sob and gasp routine, was rocking back and forth and acting every single bit like the shocked onlooker. They took Potts away, and Tony soon after, as he returned to conciousness, groggy, the pistol clutched in one hand. The evidence was pretty clear, and as Natasha huddled in the passenger seat next to Happy on the way to the hospital, she had to stop herself from smiling.

Step one was complete.


	2. Black Heart Inertia

**Dramatic Irony: a situation developed in a narrative or dramatic piece in which the accompanying words or actions cause something to be understood by the audience but not the characters in the play or narrative. Something that Ophie is extremely fond of and something that is kind of a big deal in this story. ENJOY, BWHAHAHAHA-**

**Thanks for the review(s) and I feel the same way- don't know if I like it yet but I had to start it. I'll be the first to admit that my formatting and my writing in the first chapter were pretty sloppy- but this one should be better and I'll go back and fix the first one once I'm done. Keep up the reviews, I love feedback!**

….

….

….

She was underwater, drifting through a situation that she vaguely recognized as her own but didn't care to wake up to. Florescent lights swam into focus along with speckled ceiling tiles and the smell of hospital disinfectant. She didn't move; she wanted to go to sleep and wake up and this be a terrible dream.

She wanted Tony.

Pepper remembered very little- screaming, blood, the bullet wounds in her stomach- but her hands flew to her abdomen and peeled away the blankets, pushed aside the hospital gown a little so she could see the bandage. She pressed her palm against it, gauging her reaction, but found that the pain was far away and didn't bother her much. She guessed that had to do with the IV stuck in her left wrist that had jerked a little, uncomfortably, when she moved.

She rested her head back on the pillow and swallowed some tears, vaguely aware that the worst was yet to come.

…

…

…

They had put him in a padded room. He was Tony fucking Stark and they had put him in a padded room.

He felt number than he'd ever felt-even after five or six drinks-in his life. His thoughts were a steady stream of Pepper, repeated over and over and over, just her name, nothing else. Everything else was too hard.

He knew he hadn't shot Pepper. Someone else had shot Pepper, knocked him out first, put the pistol in his hand to make it look like he'd shot Pepper, but he knew he hadn't shot Pepper. He'd never hurt her, not ever, and the fact that people were doubting that made him want to cry.

But he was Tony fucking Stark and so he never cried. And he never got locked up in padded rooms for 'shooting' the love of his life. It just didn't happen. He didn't care so much that he was stuck in a cell for loonies, he just wanted to know that Pepper was okay, but every time he asked, nobody would answer him.

He cradled his head in his hands and swallowed a lump in his throat.

…

…

…

"I know it's unexpected and it's hard to believe, but I WAS THERE," she was saying, starting to get annoyed. "Tony Stark shot Virginia Potts. I saw it happen."

The officers shifted uncomfortably as Rhodes snarled back, "Bullshit. Tony would never shoot Pepper. What possible reason would he have for shooting the CEO of his company? None. And I'm telling you- and you SAW- that he loves that woman to death. He'd be the last person on earth to hurt her."

She forced some burning tears to the surface. "You don't think I know that? I know that just as well as you do! But I was there and whether he went crazy or it was deliberate, I saw him shoot her. Twice."

"She's lying," the Colonel insisted, beginning to panic. Natasha knew just how this meeting was going to end. Tony Stark was going to serve life in prison for attempted manslaughter, no matter what his best friend said. She cried a little more, a little harder, for good measure. Happy handed her a tissue, which she dutifully accepted.

"What reason would she have to lie?" one of the officers asked, and nodded when nobody could answer him, his point made. "He's going to be tried and whether you like it or not- and nobody does, believe me- he's going to serve a long time in prison. Attempted manslaughter is not something the law takes lightly."

…

…

…

It was the middle of the night (or at least it felt like the middle of the night and it had been hours since the cold soup and bread he'd been given as dinner) when she woke him. His immediate reaction was to yelp in surprise, but she had been prepared for that- she kissed him to cover the sound. She was clothed in all black- a neoprene suit, or something like it- and he knew, suddenly, that she had to have snuck in. He couldn't think of how, couldn't think of anything except for the fact that she was kissing him and he wasn't trying to yell anymore and he didn't want her to be kissing him.

Mostly.

He pushed her away, swiping the back of his hand over his lips. "Natalie," he gasped for breath and stumbled away from her. Was she here to get him out? Did she know who'd shot Pepper? Why had she kissed him? Wouldn't have covering his mouth with her hand worked just as well?

"Natasha," she corrected. "From now on you don't talk until I say you can talk. I have something to say and you're going to listen." Considering that he couldn't think of much to say, he didn't protest. "I can prove that you shot Virginia Potts," she hissed, backing him against a wall. He was consciously trying to stay away from her as he came to realize that her intention wasn't as helpful as he'd originally hoped.

"But I didn't!" He protested, rather loudly. The sound of her hand connecting with his cheek was louder still and it HURT as much as it shocked him into silence. "I know that, you idiot." He was surprised by the hint of affection he heard in her voice and damn she was aggressive. He had to admit that was pretty sexy, even if he shoved the thought to the back of his mind. It was there.

"You do…how?" Her hand ghosted across the cheek she'd slapped only seconds earlier and a strange, cold little smile graced her lips as she shattered his world into a thousand tiny pieces, with just three words: "Because I did."

…

…

…

He reacted about the way she'd expected him to. His jaw practically hit the floor and he tried to talk but nothing much came out. Just a few scattered syllables that didn't mean much in any of the hundreds of languages she knew how to speak. His only coherent question was "Why?" and she didn't answer it. "I can testify against you, Tony, and have you put in jail for the rest of your life," she told him, fingers still resting just barely on his jaw. "Or you can come with me- quietly- and do as I tell you."

She didn't expect his next question and it made her angry- both the question and the fact that she hadn't forseen it. "Is she… is Pepper alive?"

She said the first thing that came out of her vindictive, plotting mindset: "No," and he slid down the wall, head in his hands, with a pathetic choking sob. She let him brood for a few minutes, admired the curve of his shoulders in the shadow of the arc reactor. He asked her 'why' again, quietly, sadly, then louder, more desperate, and she still didn't answer him. "Because I love you" didn't seem like a very good answer.

"Are you going to come with me, or not?" she asked back.

When he stood, finally, and agreed to come with her, face tear-streaked and solemn, she took it as a testament to his (admittedly) recently buried selfish streak.

Mistake number one.

…

…

…

He hated her more than he hated himself, and that was what gave him the strength to go with her. All he had to do was keep repeating in his head that Pepper was dead and Natashalie had killed her, and he was okay.

Not okay. Not even close to okay. Not even in the same zip-code as okay, but he could pretend. He couldn't let himself think too much about Pepper or he'd fall apart; he couldn't think about all the things he would have said or done or not said or not done or she'd know that he was planning something and he'd be in jail or dead.

He followed her out of the (broken into) cell, through the hallway, and out of the window, past two unconscious gaurds, and let her lead him away, all the while vowing to the memory of a strawberry blonde that he would get revenge.

…

…

…

"What do you mean he's gone?"

She knew he hadn't shot her, she wasn't stupid. She was, however, in a kind of reflective form of shock where she kept asking the same questions of herself and everyone around her. And they still wouldn't let her out of the damn hospital.

"I mean, he's gone," Rhodey told her for the thousandth time. "He's escaped from his holding cell, Pepper. They wont let me let you out of the hospital until we find him. I'm trying, I promise, but they think he'll come back to finish what he started…"

She shook her head, drowning in self pity, confusion, and morphine. "He didn't do anything, though. Rhodey, he didn't shoot me. Why doesn't anyone believe me?"

"Because they found him with a gun in his hand, and only his fingerprints on it," he told her. She strained to remember the face of her attacker but could only come up with the gun pointed at her, nothing else. The sillouette she remembered was vaguely female but she couldn't think about it too long or her head started to throb.

She had been so selfish. She was generally a pretty efficient and selfless person, which was why and how she worked for Tony for a decade, but she had been selfish to indulge in her fear of all the things that could have gone wrong in their relationship. She should have told him, or shown him, how she felt before something like this happened and he was torn away from her with no chance of return.

"Rhodey," she whispered, "I'm an idiot, aren't I?" But no matter times he told her she wasn't she knew he was wrong. She let herself cry (only in front of him) because he was all she had left of Tony and that was at least partly her fault.

…

…

…

The biggest problem he tried to convince himself that he had was the fact that she was making him share a bed with her. She smelled like woman and honey and flowers- too sweet for his taste- and she was lying inches from him, breathing his air, watching him.

…

He was beautiful to her, in every way. She took in the glint of his dark eyes, his large, calloused hands clasped on his tight abdomen, the sorrow etched into his face, and marveled at this man lying inches from her. She wanted to touch him, so she did. She could do whatever she wanted now; he couldn't resist her anymore.

…

Her fingers were impossibly light as they trailed from his temple to his jaw and his neck but he still tightened beneath her touch, willing himself not to draw back, afraid of what her reaction would be. He was a man and she was a woman and that should have been enough for him. A few months ago, that would have been enough for him- but not anymore. Even now, knowing that Pepper was dead- damn. He'd thought about it.

He clenched his jaw to keep his lips from quivering and rolled so that hi s back was to her, a sudden and violent movement that had to make it obvious just who he was thinking of.

…

She felt a little bit guilty when he rolled away from her, because of the look he'd gotten in his eyes, knowing she'd put it there…but if he had known that Virginia was alive, there would have been no way he'd have agreed to share a bed with her, or even leave the cell.

She didn't push him. She was a little bit afraid of him, actually- of the damage he represented. She kept her eyes trained on his shaking back as his body was wracked with silent sobs, but she didn't dare move. He was like a black hole, collapsing in and in and in on himself until there was nothing left and his shallow breathing drew out longer as he succumbed to sleep.

…

…

…


End file.
